Lost Boy
by NovemberNineteen
Summary: Toby grows stranger by the year, and Sarah isn't sure that she can keep up any longer.


AN: first p0st (in Labyrinth anyway). I haven't been motivated to write much fanfiction for a while, but the spirituality and mysticism in the stories of this community are inspiring :). Hope you like this short one-shot. And feel free to guess at the inspirations!

"Where did you hide it?"

Toby smiled up at his older sister from underneath his blonde eyelashes. He bit his finger cutely; his little white teeth were equally adorable. She almost smiled back, but caught herself, reminding herself that someone had to tell him no, that what he was doing was _wrong_.

"That's stealing Toby. That's not okay." Sarah crouched down so that they were face to face, and she could meet his bright eyes, and could intone, very seriously, that taking things that belonged to other people without asking them was very impolite and that she would tell their parents if he didn't give back what he took.

Toby frowned, and his eyebrows drew up into an expression of hurt, eyes wet, and Sarah found herself about envelop him in her arms, because she was being _mean_. Toby couldn't possibly have done anything wrong, just look at him! But she caught herself, and made herself look stern again.

"Toby. Give it back to me."

This time he knew she was serious, and he dropped his finger and for a moment he glared at her, eyes narrowing until they they took in hardly any light and appeared black. Then he was smiling again as he reached into his pocket; another mercurial shift, be was so spirited! He drew out a little shivering puddle. It was dense and black, rippling with a liquid-like translucence. She took it from him; it was soft and cold.

Sarah pinched the surface of the puddle and pulled up on the dark material, and it unfurled like a piece of fabric into a shape. Sarah stood, allowing it to hang in front of her. It hung completely still, unmoved by any air currents, and silent even when she dragged it on the floor. She looked at it critically. It was too long, the arms too wide, the chest too broad.

"Toby," She spoke softly. "This isn't mine. Please give me mine."

He burst into a fit of giggles, a soft, bubbling noise. Sarah had to laugh with him. "You silly boy! You thought I wouldn't notice!" He ran to her and she embraced him, picking him up and twirling around as she laughed and he squealed in childish excitement. She held him close and smiled fondly at him.

"Where's my real shadow Toby? I need it back. Everyone needs their own shadow, it's very important." Sarah spoke gently. "If I don't cast a shadow I might start to fade away. You wouldn't want that would you Toby?" She pouted exaggeratedly at him.

He shook his head at her, smiling cutely, and reached into his pocket again. He placed the piece of darkness in her hand, and this time Sarah recognized it. She kissed Toby softly on his forehead.

"Thank you very much Toby." Sarah put him down. "I know you think it's funny, Toby," She couldn't help but smile, "but you mustn't keep taking people's shadows. I may not be able to give them back in time, OK?"

Toby nodded and ran into the other room, no longer interested in playing with Sarah. She breathed deeply through her nose, and hummed softly a tune Toby was learning in school. She draped the darkness over her back like a cloak, feeling in meld to her form, until the sensation was suddenly gone and she was absorbing and reflecting light as she ought to be.

She held the first shadow cupped carefully to her chest as she climbed the stairs to the upper landing. Sarah no longer lived in her childhood home, but her room remained unused, exactly as she'd left it when she left for college.

Underneath her bed, with it's pink and girlish fittings, was a heavy wooden box. Sarah pulled it out carefully. Inside was only blackness, as if the box contained a deep hole. She placed the shadow in it and stored the chest back underneath the bed.

"This is all your fault!" She spat, turning suddenly to the mirror over her vanity. Within the mirror, the miniature figure of a pale-haired sorcerer glinted subtly from a shelf behind her. Sarah knew without turning around that she wouldn't find it there. She'd thrown the figure out years ago, along with a little red-bound book. Yet it remained in the glass of the mirror, haunting her room as a little ghost.

Slowly the white face turned to face her and the little painted eyes shone darkly.

"What did you do to him?" In the mirror, she could see her eyes begin to wet. She blinked hard. The figure tilted his head, and the red lips pulled up on one side.

He was laughing at her. She stared at him numbly, astonished by his derision.

"What do you want?" She was yelling now. "I'll give anything! Just change him back. Make him normal again."

He smiled widely at her, and tilted his head questioningly.

"Anything," Sarah repeated.

The doll stepped carefully off his pedestal and made his way over to the other end of the shelf. He stopped behind the delicate music box with the tiny dancer: a girl with dark hair and a puffy white dress. With a sharp push he gave her over to gravity, and the doll hit the floor with an ear-piercing crash.

Sarah whirled around: unlike the sorcerer, the dancer was very real. She lay in several dusty pieces on the floor, her face and molded hair flung farthest, and her porcelain feet still trapped on the rotating platform of the music box. For a moment a dark red stain haloed the broken figurine, but when Sarah blinked the wood was clean.

"My death? I thought..." Tears pricked her eyes, as she turned back to the mirror, ready to question further. But the spark in the eye of the sorcerer was gone, and Sarah sensed that she would get no further answers.


End file.
